I've discovered there are two paths to escape reality,
The path of dreams,
And the path to death.
Those are your choices, right?
You either face life,
Let yourself turn away from life to dreams, or die,
It's simple, yet so very complex,
That I've yet to find the road for me.

After contemplating numerous options,
None seem fit for such a proposition,
And so I sit here lost in my own little world,
Trying to drown out my surroundings to shield myself,
From what I do not wish to see or acknowledge: reality,
It is a slap in the face,
So I fall into dreams where I can carry myself away,
And have not one worry,
Until dreams become reality, what then?

When at first they were my escape path,
Diversion, my solace;
And just as quickly they've become morbid,
And force me to see violence and reality constantly,
Then my means of separation is gone,
Ruined by frightened and broken mentality.

So I retreat to my corner overcome,
With longing for some way out,
And it comes, slowly... Silently...
Creeping through the pitch black room,
It slips beneath the closed door drifting through the air,
And I sense it as it approaches,
But I have no fear, only relief.

It comes at last and as it descends,
I feel myself give' way to all the burden,
I've carried along this broken road,
Then relax as death reaches out and takes hold of me,
Calling me home.